


Sherlollipops - Overboard

by MizJoely



Series: 221 Sherlollipops [188]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Overprotective Sherlock, Pregnancy, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:53:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7104241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miss Platypus on fanfiction.net asked for a story where Sherlock deduces that Molly is pregnant and goes overboard on monitoring her diet (alcohol, caffeine, licorice).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlollipops - Overboard

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly tweaked. Info on licorice taken from a babymed.com article.

“Sherlock, honestly, if you don’t ease up, Molly is going to throw you through a window. Repeatedly. Right onto Mrs. Hudson’s bins.”

“Defenestration.”

“Pardon?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked over at his best friend and former flatmate, who was standing with crossed arms in front of the fireplace. “That’s the word you’re searching for. Defenestration. The act of repeatedly throwing someone out of a window.”

“No, the word I’m looking for is ‘overprotective git’,” John countered. He raised a quelling hand as Sherlock opened his mouth to correct him. “And yes, I’m aware that’s actually two words, thank you. The point is, you are going to drive your pregnant wife to spousal homicide if you don’t let up on her.”

Sherlock’s brow lowered in a frown. “Just because you weren’t around much to hover over Mary when she was pregnant with Poppy…”

John’s fists clenched. “Don’t go there, Sherlock,” he warned. “I’m not above punching you, you know that.”

“Fine, whatever,” Sherlock said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He leaned back in his seat in order to fix his gaze on the ceiling. “ _ My _ point is that I want my wife and child to be safe, the same as any husband and father-to-be would be.”

“Yes, I do get that, but really, Sherlock, licorice? You do know that flatly forbidding someone - especially your wife! - not to do something generally leads them to rebelliously wanting to do that exact thing, right?”

“Studies have shown that pregnant women should avoid licorice since it contains a component called glycyrrhizin…”

“...which can impair the placenta and allow stress hormones called glucocorticoids to enter the baby’s system, yeah I do know that,” John finished for him. “But I doubt Molly’s been eating enough of it to cause a problem - unless you drive her to it out of sheer spite!”

Sherlock looked back at John with a scowl. “Molly,” he enunciated, “would never do anything to harm our baby. Ever. Even to spite me - no matter how much I might deserve it.”

“And we both know how very much you deserve it, husband mine.”

John grinned and Sherlock slouched low in his seat at the sound of his wife’s voice from the doorway. “Molly,” he mumbled. “Didn’t expect you home till later, thought you were working…”

“I was, and now I’m home and dear me, John, would you look at the time?” Molly asked pointedly. 

John, never as slow on the uptake as Sherlock insisted he was, took the not-so-subtle hint. “Yeah, gotta get home to Mary, almost time for dinner and Poppy gets very upset if I’m not there to prove that vegetables won’t kill her. Ta!” He headed out the door, pausing only to kiss Molly’s cheek and smile down at her burgeoning belly. 

Sherlock slumped even further into his chair, but there was no escaping the gimlet eye of his wife. She stood directly in front of him, hands on her (significantly wider) hips as she studied him. “Sherlock, we talked about this,” she said sternly.

He tried pretending he’d gone into his mind palace, but she was having none of that and sat calmly on his lap. He straightened up a bit - even with the pregnancy weight she’d gained, she still weighed practically nothing - and wrapped his arms around her with a sigh. “I know,” he said after a minute. “It’s just…”

“You worry.” “You know how I like to experiment.”

They spoke at the same time, and the knowing look Molly gave him told him that she knew quite well when he was fibbing. She was worse than Mary Watson sometimes, he thought with a mental grumble. But any disgruntlement on his part faded at the warm, loving look his wife was giving him as she took his face between her hands. “I love you, you daft man, and I know you want the best for us.” She gestured needlessly to her belly to indicate who ‘us’ meant. “But you have to calm down. We’re both doing fine, and I promise I won’t eat more than a few packets of Allsorts a week, all right?”

His indignant - and yes, dammit, worried - exclamation died in his throat at the mirth he saw in her warm brown eyes. He subsided with a huff of exasperation, but held her even closer, pulling her down for a loving kiss they both knew that meant that she’d won. 

_ As usual,  _ he thought as he promised to stop mother henning her in future. 

Ever since he’d come to his senses and confessed his love to her, Molly  _ always  _ won - and he never regretted that fact, even for a moment.


End file.
